Cat N' Mau5

Chapter 8: Mixing the Facts

I slung my school bag over my shoulder and started heading towards the school gates. It was another casual day at primary school, and I had ditched my friends to get home faster.

Mum was coming home today. She had flown off to attend her own mother's funeral; the last of our relatives. Dad had stayed and looked after me.

I saw the car parked out the front of our house on top of the hill and started running. My feet slapped down hard on the asphalt, but they were numb with joy anyway.

Our house wasn't anything spectacular. It had a dead lawn out the front, and the white paint was tinged an ugly grey and peeling.

I sprinted up the path and skipped the step, throwing open the door.

"Mum!" I called out excitedly. Strangely, there was no reply.

I walked through the lounge room and into the kitchen. No sign of mum. Down the hallway and in the bedroom, still no sign of mum. The bathroom was empty, and there was no sign of anyone.

I walked back into the kitchen and threw my bag down in the corner. As I was looking for something to eat, I noticed a note on the fridge.

'Gone to get supplies. May take a while. Leftovers in the fridge. Be back soon.

-Dad'

"Well that makes sense then," I sighed, a bit disappointed I had to wait even longer to see mum.

By the time I heard the screen door open, it had already gotten dark. Normally, I would've been in bed asleep, but I knew this was a special occasion, so mum and dad wouldn't mind.

Tripping over my long black pyjama pants, I finally made it to the front door.

"Dad!" I beamed at him. He turned around and I could tell something wasn't right. His eyes were droopy and bloodshot, and his head was lolling about in a tiredly fashion.

"Dad..." I began, this time more cautiously. "Where's mum?"

Ignoring my question, he pushed past me and I heard the clatter of the bottles in the plastic bag.

"Oh no," I thought. My father used to be an alcoholic. He has been sober for 5 years now, at least. Sorry, HAD.

"Joel," he moaned harshly. "Boy! Get me my food!" He sat himself down in a chair, and dropped the bag of alcohol heavily next to him.

With a look of dread and absolute fear, I went and reheated the leftovers in the fridge.

"Hurry up!" He called from his comfortable spot.

I worked quickly, grabbing a fork and rushing back over to him. He grumbled something about my laziness as he took the food, and I took the risk to ask him again.

"Where's mum, dad?"

He stopped eating and glared daggers up at me. Then suddenly he completely lost the plot, throwing the food down and jumping to his feet. He easily towered over an 8 year old boy, and I flinched.

"YOU WANNA KNOW WHERE SHE IS?!!" He shouted, spittle flying into my face. "DO YOU?!!"

I nodded ever so slightly.

"WELL SHE'S DEAD. SHE DONE GONE AN' GET HERSELF KILLED IN A CAR!"

Tears welled in my eyes. "Dead?" I whimpered. How could this be?

"DIDN'T YA HEAR ME YOU LAZY DEAF SOD!" He was screaming now, waving his bottle in the air. I was scared he was going to hit me, so I ran and took cover in my room.

"GET BACK HERE WHEN IN TALKIN TO YA!" He cried after me, but I was too frightened to listen to what he was saying.

I slammed the door behind me and crawled under my bed. Just in time, too. Dad came crashing in not a second later, yelling like a maniac.

Under the bed, I held me breath.

"Come out Joelie..." He cooed. But I wasn't falling for that. I squeezed myself further under the bed; further away from him.

When he realised I wouldn't come out, he frowned again. Looking around my small room, he noticed Red.

Red was my pet mouse. He had a brown fur with a rusty tinge to it, hence the name 'Red'.

Dad stalked over to the cage. He slowly and deliberately opened it up, and reached in for the peaceful creature.

The tears rolling down my face made my cheeks burn, and I could taste the saltiness of them.

He lifted Red out by the tip of the tail, and left the room. It was eerily quiet, and I feared for Red's safety. Maybe more so then my own, because as soon as I heard frantic squeaking I pushed myself off the wall and rushed into the bathroom, where the noise was coming from.

My dad was standing there with a razor in one hand while the other held the mouse down. He had placed a large book on Red's tail to make it easier, and the poor thing was terrified.

"DAD WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!" I screamed, throwing myself at him. But before I could do anything, he back handed me and I went flying into the door, cracking my head on the handle.

I lost consciousness to the sounds of a tormented rodent.

***

I could feel myself waking up, but I didn't have the strength yet to open my eyes. Physically and mentally. I was scared my dad would still be there, or of the horrors left behind.

When I did open my eyes, I wish I never had.

Red's body lay alongside the sink, the once fresh blood that had spilled across the bench and down the cupboards had dried, and was beginning to smell. The razor had seemingly been dropped on the floor, and a splat of blood was underneath it.

Mortified, I shot out the bathroom like a billet and straight to my room, throwing myself on the bed and bawling my eyes out.

Red was dead. He had been mauled by my own father, and I hadn't done anything to save him. It was my fault; he would hate me forever up in mouse heaven.

The screeches haunted my memory, and I forced myself to look up.

I found myself face to face with the small robot I had been constructing.

I had started a while ago, when we would sit down as a family and watch Fight Night. I had decided to design my own fighting robot, and he was a mouse, dedicated to my best fried Red. And so, fittingly, he was a red mouse.

As I looked at my unfinished robot, I suddenly had an idea. I had been wandering what to name it for ages. There wasn't really a good combination I could give him that was like the fighters of today; a name with a number in it.

But now I had my inspiration.

Red, mouse, was now a very dead mouse. Who had been mauled.

The words articulated in my brain, forming the perfect combination of all the facts:

DeadMau5